Authors: James Roy Daley
Or die trying.
The boneless limb tried to wrap around him and he pulled away from it, dropped onto his stomach, and stuck both arms inside the opening. He gripped the cold floor in the unexplored room and crawled like a lizard. Broken chunks of wood scraped against his body. There was a nail sticking out of the wall, digging a line into his right shoulder. It hurt lots but he pushed on bravely, clenching his teeth together. His shirt ripped and the skin beneath it began bleeding. His knees banged off the strapping and another nail stabbed his skin. He turned onto his back and pulled his legs through the opening.
Pressure on his shin; the beast was touching him again.
Pat pulled away from the probing limb and stood up. He did it. He was through. So what the hell was he supposed to do now? He needed to block the hole but the problem was, he couldn’t see anything.
Question: What’s the best way to find something in the dark?
Answer: Turn on a light.
Question: Where are most light switches located?
Pat felt himself panicking. It was strange that it was happing now and not three minutes ago. The entire time he was ripping the wall apart his thoughts were organized and under control, but now that he made it to another area things had changed. He was standing in a dark room, in the unknown, and his fears were ready to consume him. A few seconds ago he had a clear agenda; now he none. But he was
still
under pressure…
He stumbled towards the door he couldn’t open from the hallway. He raised both hands towards the unfinished wall, searching. The back of his hand touched a thick cable of wiring. He felt––
A light switch!
He clicked it on and before he had a chance to wonder if it would work a florescent light hummed and flickered and came to life, causing him to stick his bleeding hands in front of his eyes. The light seemed very bright now. That was okay. It would pass, and when it did he’d know exactly what to do.
14
Daniel started down the ladder for the fourth time in the past few hours; he had his gun tucked into his belt and kept his eyes on the rungs. Sometimes he stopped moving and looked towards the ground because he didn’t want to be ambushed. It was the smart thing to do.
The air was cold and with every rung he descended the air felt colder still. Somehow he had forgotten.
Climbing, climbing, climbing––with his limbs turning numb and his teeth pressed together. Inevitably he reached the bottom rung; that’s when the fear claimed him. Not before, and arguably not after. But on the last rung fear strangled him without mercy. He felt exposed then––exposed, vulnerable, and in-between tasks. This caused his stomach to clench and goosebumps to form constellations on his arms. If someone drew his caricature the illustration would have his hair standing on end, his eyes shaped like eggs, and his mouth opened in the shape of an O. Next to the O shaped mouth there’d be a bubble and inside the bubble
OH MY GOD! I’M SO SCARED!!
would be written in terror shaped letters that dripped blood.
He had to get it together, didn’t mind tell himself as much.
Get it together or die
, he thought. And what kind of choice was that?
The answer: none. It was no choice at all.
Daniel pulled the gun from his waist, unlocked the safety, and walked into the giant room, listening to his footsteps echo off the walls. The room, he soon discovered, was empty. He wasn’t sure if this was good news or bad news but as he approached the place Roger had been killed, he moved cautiously, like the room might not stay empty for long. He looked at the floor. Roger’s arm was gone and the area around it was wet, sticky, and peppered with bits of bone, entrails, and God knows what else. He looked at the mess for five seconds or more before kicking a chunk with his shoe. Was it a piece of flesh? He didn’t kick it hard, or far. Just touched it really, making sure it was there, making sure it was real. He wasn’t imagining things. The tissue was real but it wasn’t flesh. It was half a finger.
Daniel stepped through the doorway.
He saw the cocoons and the crates and surprised himself by thinking about money. The crates belonged to him now; maybe he’d discover a treasure after all. And become rich. Or maybe he’d say ‘screw it’ and set the place on fire. It was definitely one way to go, but was it the right way?
After I find Patrick, I’ll decide.
He heard something that sounded like fingernails clicking against glass.
He followed the sound with his eyes and saw a hatched cocoon with several dozen of those strange, multi-legged creatures crawling out of it. More monstrosities were creeping across the top of a wooden crate, each about the size of a human head. Some were faced towards him; some were faced away.
15
“Can you do that for daddy?” Nicolas said. “Be a good girl and crawl into the trunk of my car? Or should I cut off your lips with a straight razor?”
Beth felt something die inside of her. This was bad. Terrible. She said, “I’d rather sit in the front seat with you, uh… daddy. Do you mind if I sit in the front with you? I enjoy riding in the
front
.”
Nicolas’ face became an exaggerated frown. “Oh, I’m sorry Big Beth. The front is reserved for the dead man.” He turned towards William, who was still lying face down in the dirt. “Did you hear that, asshole? I’ve got a new name for you. It’s
‘Dead Man Walking.’
Do you like that, huh tough guy?
Dead Man Walking
.”
William didn’t respond. What could he say?
“Like I said, Big Beth. Dead Man Walking is going to sit in the front with your daddy and you’ll be in the trunk. You’ll do whatever I want, right? You’re not a liar, are you? If you are, I’m going to punish you. Do I have to punish you?”
Beth chose her words wisely. “I’m not a liar, daddy. But I don’t want to be in the trunk. Can I be in the back seat?”
“No.”
“Oh.” In the moment that slipped past next, Beth opened her mouth but found that she had nothing to say.
Nicolas did. He said, “Something else you need to be aware of, Big Beth. There’s already someone in the trunk. So, you know… it might be crowded back there.”
Beth looked at his car. The trunk was open but she couldn’t see inside from where she was standing.
“Don’t worry,” Nicolas whispered. “The girl in the trunk has been dead for weeks.”
Beth’s thoughts drifted. She wondered if she was taking part in some elaborate joke but feared that she wasn’t. So what was she supposed to do? Was she really going to crawl into the trunk of a madman’s car and lie next to a corpse? If she said ‘no’––a word she was trained to avoid using––what would happen next? Would the outcome be a pleasant one? Probably not.
It was a tough spot.
Getting into the trunk was the wrong move, possibly the
worst
move. But saying ‘no’ was also the wrong move. So what was left?
William needed to attack the man. Simple. She could almost see it happening too; see him leaping up like a comic book superhero with his muscles bulging and his eyes stern. And oh, wouldn’t that be perfect? But Will was in no position to fight, nor was he a stern-eyed muscleman. He had fat arms, a potbelly, and he was working on chin number three. Not to mention the fact that he was lying facedown in the dirt and was afraid to move––with good reason. The man with the gun wanted to shoot him. Might even do it.
William couldn’t help; Beth was the one standing. Not Will. So was it was time for her to swing her fists into action? Was that her best option? Or was it the only option that didn’t have her locked inside the trunk of a car––
She looked at the shotgun.
The gun was held low, pointed just below her chest.
“Don’t look there, Big Beth.” Nicolas said. “Don’t look at the gun. I see what you’re doing. I know what you’re thinking. Yes I do. I know what you’re thinking and I don’t like it. You’re wondering what to do because you don’t want to get in the trunk. I get that, I really do. I understand. It’s cramped back there, I know. And Pauline Stupid-Head is a tad slimy right now. She isn’t the most pleasant girl in the neighborhood, if you catch my drift. She’s stinky. She has flies on her. She has worms crawling out of her belly, cooties in her eyes, and mold on her skin. She hasn’t brushed her teeth in years. She hasn’t showered. She’s been pissing on herself forever. I understand. I’ve seen her and you haven’t––so trust me, I know how rough she is. I’m not sure I’d want to crawl back there and I like that sort of thing. But here’s the situation… ” Nicolas clamped his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes narrowed. “Get on the ground, NOW!”
Beth dropped to her knees and put her face into her hands.
If he shoots me in the head my hands will blow apart too,
she thought morbidly.
Oh Gawd, don’t shoot me in the head. Don’t kill me.
“Hey! Dead Man Walking! Stand up. Let me get a look at you.”
William pushed himself to his feet.
Once he was standing, Nicolas moved away from him. He didn’t trust this man. He didn’t trust him or like him. The easiest thing might be to shoot the asshole, right here and now. It was something to consider.
“Come with me,” Nicolas said.
He backed away from William, moving towards his car. The gun was angled appropriately. Once he had William standing next to his car, he said, “Would you like to get in the trunk? It’s nice back there, nice and disgusting. Naw… just kidding. You can lie on the road again. Do it. Do it
now.”
William felt his chin tremble and his eyes water. There was nothing he could do to change things. He was beat, and at this point he didn’t want to hesitate. If the psychotic man happened to be a ‘
three strikes, you’re out’
type of guy, then Will’s next error would be his last. He said, “Yes sir.” He squatted, got onto his hands and knees and dropped onto the road.
“Open your arms and legs wide.”
William did.
Nicolas made his way to Beth. “Okay Big Beth. It’s time to get up again.”
She got up slowly, trying to drag the moment out, hoping that something good would happen. She needed leverage here, because right now she felt like she didn’t have any leverage at all.
Down the road, a blue minivan pulled from a driveway. After a slight pause it began driving towards them.
William––still lying on the road––tilted his head slightly, sneaking a dangerous glimpse.
Beth shifted her eyes.
This was the moment she’d been waiting for. But what was she going to do with it? How could she exploit the moment? One false move might push Nicolas over the edge, so where did that leave her?
Nicolas grinned. He didn’t turn towards the vehicle or hide what he was doing. He didn’t step forward or back or do anything at all. His eyes were locked on Beth.
Big
Beth. He was forging a new plan and feeling good about it.
“You ready, Big Beth?” He said, holding the shotgun low. “You ready to see something exciting, something you’ll never forget? After therapy and nightmares and drinking yourself to death you’re going to remember this one. Are you ready to see a gun go off? Ready to watch people die?”
The minivan approached with headlights gleaming. It slowed, presumably to see what was happening.
“No,” Beth said.
“No what?”
The van was almost beside them now. The passenger window was lowering and the wheels were coming to a stop.
“No daddy,” Beth said.
She wondered why the van was stopping. Couldn’t the people inside the damn thing see they were in the presence of a maniac? Couldn’t they see the shotgun, or William lying facedown on the road like a hostage?
William’s heart raced and his mouth became drier than sand. If there was ever a time to run, or hide, or fight, or scream––the time was now. Right now. He had to do something. His hands began to shake.
Get up
, he thought.
Get up. Get up. Get up!
Still standing at the side of the road, Beth began to cry. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to fight the man but she was afraid and she didn’t know what do.
“No daddy” she said again, hating the fact that she sounded like a child now. And she did. Oh God, it was impossible to sound like an adult while calling someone ‘daddy’ as the snot built up inside your nose. “I’m not ready for this. Please don’t do anything unpleasant. Just leave everybody alone.
Please!”
She was unraveling. She knew it and Nicolas knew it too.
The van stopped.
A window rolled down.
“It’s too bad you feel that way, Big Beth,” Nicolas said. “You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, my love. Do you know that? Of course you do. Watch this.”
Nicolas turned quickly, marched towards the vehicle, and rammed the shotgun barrel through the open window.
There was a man and a woman in the front and a baby girl in the back. The man’s name was Brett Adkins. His wife’s name was Tara. The baby girl was Michelle Rose Adkins. She wore a pink jumper and was fast asleep.
The shotgun barrel smacked Tara in the nose and her face became instantly pale. Brett’s eyes popped open and his jaw dropped. Tara raised a hand from her lap and––
Nicolas pulled the trigger. A gigantic outburst erupted within his hands and Tara’s head exploded. A fountain of blood shot from her neck. Skull fragments, meat, brain, hair, and skin, tumbled off her shoulders.
Nicolas pumped a new shell into the chamber.
Brett, covered in gore, wore an expression that said:
Tara’s head didn’t really get wiped off the face of the earth, did it? This can’t possibly be real! This must be a dream!